


Better Than Anything Else That I've Tried

by missanomalous



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missanomalous/pseuds/missanomalous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana hates storms and Brittany misses Quinn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Anything Else That I've Tried

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from old LJ.
> 
> Spoilers: Laryngitis

Santana hates storms. She’s not afraid of lightning and she doesn’t jump when she hears thunder or anything stupid like that, but she hates the other things that storms bring – humidity and frizzy hair and, worst of all, power outages. Lima, Ohio is currently suffering from a blackout that has lasted more than an hour already and Santana has had just about enough of this nonsense.  


Even with the windows wide open, the humidity is still stifling and she’s about ready to kill herself if the air conditioning doesn’t come on soon. Santana huffs and kicks at the sheets bunched at the bottom of the bed in frustration, finally giving in and peeling off her sweat-soaked tank top and tossing it haphazardly in the direction of her hamper.  


“S?”  


Santana glances over to her blonde counterpart, who had long since stripped herself completely of her clothes.  


“Yeah?”  


“Do you think Quinn’s gonna keep Drizzle?”  


“What the fuck is a ‘Drizzle’?”  


“That’s what Finn wanted to name the baby.”  


“Finn’s not the father.”  


“I know,” Brittany sounds exasperated and slightly bitter as she replies, “Your boyfriend is. But Finn was the dad before him and he was a better one.”  


Santana winces; it’s so rare to hear Brittany negative in any way, but ever since her showdown with Mercedes in glee, Puck has been a touchy subject.  


“I don’t think she’s keeping the baby.”  


“Oh.”  


“Yeah.”  


“She’d be a good mom. Quinn seems like she would be a good mom.”  


Santana wipes the sweat from her hairline and purses her lips. “You’re right. She would.”  


“I miss her.”  


Santana glances over again, her eyes roaming Brittany’s face in the dark. Lighting flashes across the sky for a few long seconds she’s able to look past the blonde as the picture on her bedside table is illuminated. There are three photo strips from the booth the mall in a single frame, with her, Brittany, and Quinn that had been taken the previous summer before school started. Santana can’t remember how much it cost them, but they ended up with about ten strips of goofy pictures and had immediately ran through the mall in search of the perfect frames for their photos.  


“I miss her too, B.”  


“We could still hang out with her more. Even if she’s pregnant. We could.” Brittany’s head snaps to the side and another flash of lighting brightens the room and Santana suddenly finds herself breathless as shockingly blue eyes meet her own for the briefest moment.  


“Yeah,” she chokes out. “Yeah, B. We could. We can.”  


“I miss being friends with her. Even when she was mean. You’re mean sometimes, too. So am I. But she’s better now. She always looks like she’s afraid to sit with us in glee and in class and stuff but you’re not supposed to be afraid of your friends.” Another flash of lightning and another meeting of blue and brown eyes. “We are still friends with her, right? Kind of?”  


“Yeah. We’re still kind of friends.”  


“She’s still pretty now that she’s pregnant. It’s not like we’d be hanging out with an ugly pregnant girl. And she’s nicer now but she’s probably still good at being a bitch.”  


“Tomorrow,” Santana murmurs. “Tomorrow we’ll call her and she can come over and hang out.”  


Brittany smiles and rolls on to her side and even in the dark light and hot air Santana still gets goosebumps as her eyes freely roam the dancer’s body. Toned calves turn into smooth thighs turn into tight abs turn into perfect breasts and Santana surges forward, knocking her teeth against Brittany’s in a rough kiss and allowing her hands to roam the blonde’s sweaty abdomen, fingers dipping in and teasing the grooves of the taut muscles.  


Brittany groans and tangles her fingers in Santana’s hair and it’s all the encouragement Santana needs to press their sweaty bodies together and slip her tongue past Skittles-flavoured lips and curl it around the back of Brittany’s teeth. Santana pushes the blonde back over and straddles her slim hips, grinding her pelvis down and revelling in the groan that escapes the girl beneath her.  


“I want-” Santana’s voice is suddenly drowned out by a clap of thunder, but she can feel the groan reverberate through Brittany’s throat as she sucks on the pale skin covering it. “I… I want…”  


“What do you want?” Brittany asks, her voice low and husky and hot. Santana sucks in a breath and before she knows it, she has Brittany’s legs thrown over her shoulders as her tongue glides across slippery smooth skin. She laps and sucks and drags her teeth over the heated flesh and above her Brittany makes these guttural sounds that Santana has never heard before.  


This is new to them. Their hook ups before were always fuelled by alcohol or boredom or done under the pretence of practicing for guys, fingers moving inexpertly inside underwear in a quick attempt to get off. It was never desire or want or need or lust, just two kids screwing around.  _Clearly_ , Santana thinks,  _it’s the heat going to your head._ Her tongue is jabbing at Brittany’s clit when her attention is caught by the blonde with some tugging on her hair and she has to pull away to hear Brittany’s words more clearly.  


“Does it…” Brittany licks her lips and takes a deep breath, her blue eyes dark and hazy even in the flash of light from outside. “Do I taste good?”  


“What?” Santana manages to croak out after the words finally register.  


Brittany seems to flush a little at the question, but immediately responds, tangling her fingers in Santana’s hair to drag her nails across her scalp. “Do I taste good?”  


Santana lets out a ridiculously loud moan and, suddenly embarrassed of her own voice, scrambles up Brittany’s body to let her see for herself what she tastes like. Two of her fingers slide into Brittany and Brittany, in response, keens into her mouth, hips bucking up wantonly and nails scraping down her tan skin.  


Santana hisses as sweat leaks into the scratches Brittany is leaving behind and pulls away from the warm lips on her own to stare down at the blonde. Brittany’s head is thrown her head back, eyebrows furrowed and mouth in an ‘O’ until she brings Santana down close to her, burying her face in Santana’s neck and reflexively biting down at the spot where it meets Santana’s shoulder.  


Brittany comes with a small wail, her body seizing underneath Santana’s until she melts back onto the bed. Santana whimpers as Brittany paws at the elastic of her underwear without missing a beat and it’s a mad scramble to get them pushed down, but when they are Santana savors the feel of skin-on-skin, moaning into Brittany’s mouth and pressing her weight down on Brittany’s thigh.  


“Do you want me to…?” Brittany trails off, momentarily finding herself distracted in sucking on Santana’s top lip. “Do you want me to go down on you too? I’ve never… well, you know, but I can try if that’s what you want.”  


Santana shakes her head so hard she thinks she might dislocate something, but the idea of stopping or slowing now for any reason is unfathomable. She whines as Brittany’s strong thigh flexes underneath her, grinds down harder against the smooth skin, and jerks forward with a groan as she shivers her release.  


“Jesus Christ,” Santana breathes as she rolls over onto her back, sweat burning her eyes as her post-coital calm sweeps through her body. Brittany makes a noise of approval next to her, flopping over onto her stomach and stretching as a distant clap of thunder sounds outside.  


“Did you mean it? About inviting Quinn over tomorrow?”  


Santana hums as Brittany’s nail traces her bellybutton. “Yeah. She can… we can work on our costumes for glee or something.”  


“You have to be nice.”  


Santana scoffs but allows Brittany to slide over to her, throwing a thigh over her own until she’s practically draping herself over Santana, and it’s entirely too stifling in the small room for so much body contact when no sex is involved.

  
“I mean it.”

  
“I get it, shut up already,” Santana hisses back, her harsh words contrasting with the soft movement of her hand through Brittany’s hair. “We’ll invite her over and hang out and I won’t be a bitch. God.”

  
“She let me touch it today.”

  
“…Who let you touch what?”

  
“Quinn. She let me touch her baby bump. Drizzle was kicking today and she looked all weird so I asked her what was wrong and she just kind of went all red and wouldn’t say anything, so I was going to tell Mr. Schue that I think that she needed some help with the Spanish test but then she just grabbed my hand and put it on her belly.”  


“And the baby was kicking?” Brittany nods emphatically and Santana can’t help the curiosity in her voice, “What was it like?”  


“It was so crazy. I could feel, like, a whole foot pressing up. Crazy. Maybe she’ll kick tomorrow and you can feel it.”  


“I’d like that,” Santana admits quietly, her whispered words sounding loud as the torrent of rain outside starts to die down.  


“Do you think I’d be a good mom?”  


“Yeah, B. You’d be a great mom.”  


“You don’t think I’d drop it?”  


“We’d get you one of those baby carrier things. You could be like a kangaroo.”  


“You wanna be a mommy with me?” Brittany’s lips brush across her ear and Santana has mixed feelings about being turned on at those words being whispered to her. “We could have a baby.”  


“It doesn’t work like that, B.”  


“Well,” Brittany drawls, sliding up on her forearms and winking at Santana before she shimmies down the Latina’s body. Santana’s mind blanks at the feel of Brittany’s tongue, and she closes her eyes as the bright pink light filters into the room from outside, the chirping birds almost drowning out Brittany’s words as she finishes her thought, “it couldn’t hurt to try, right?”


End file.
